The Tribute from District 11
by RoastedGroosling
Summary: AU. A re-telling of THG, wherein Katniss is actually from Dist. 11 and Rue's older sister. She volunteers in Rue's place, and finds herself in the arena pitted against other kids, including a young blonde girl from 12 that reminds her of Rue. Eventual K/P
1. Chapter 1

I sneak back into our tiny home before the sun is due to start rising. My eyes flicker to the wood stove before I decide to unladen myself and my pack. Slipping between two of the three sheets that act as a room partition, I give myself a second to adjust to the darker area. I know the location of every creaky board and every dark corner of this house, well I suppose shack is more accurate; what I don't know is the position any of my six siblings could be taking.

I make out Barley's stocky form on the bed against the wall, his thick hair giving away the position of his head. He's curled around a small figure I can guess is Laurel, the youngest of us and the only other boy. On the bigger, double-sized bed I can make out two similar sized bodies, Heather and Anise, and a smaller form between them, Ivy, the second youngest. The area around my feet seems clear, but I can't make out Rue anywhere. Walking towards the foot of the closest bed, I see that she's decided to settle on floor space between them again. I shake my head- you would think she's the oldest sometimes. Before Laurel was born, I used to take that spot, and Rue would typically share a bed with Ivy.

I stealthily creep towards the wall, to my hiding spot. My short, grubby nails dig into either side of the old, ill spaced boards and pull up slowly. The board grinds softly against it's neighbor, and I hold my breath. The younger girls are all breathing softly in their sleep, but the sound might wake up Rue, with her ear against the floor. I perk my ears- she shifts in her sleep, quietly smacks her lips, before settling back into even breathing. The coast is clear. I reach into the pockets of my worn canvas pants and remove the small coil of fishing line. It's dry, having gone unused tonight, and I put it on the board near the opening. I unclip my pa's old knife from the hem of my pants and hold it in my hands, comforted by its solidity. The cracked leather of the case hides it from view, not that it would be easy to see in this darkness, but I know every last inch of it by heart. The seven inch blade, smooth along one edge, serrated towards it's base on the opposite side. The metal doesn't gleam- it's old- but it's rough surface belies it's sharpness. I have a pale scar on the palm of my right hand as proof, from poor handling when I was younger.

I scoop up the coiled line with my pinky, hand now clasped around the knife, and reach them into the hole in the floor. I gently place both items in the lidless tin down there, biting my lip at the miniscule sound it makes. I pause for a moment, but can't hear anything aside from even breathing from the room's other six occupants. I switch from my kneeling position to laying on my stomach, and move the tin as silently as I can away from the opening. I shake my hand as I pull it out again, I don't want to pull any dirt up onto the floor and get hell later from my ma. The board is replaced quicker than it had been removed, this time with less noise. I soundless grab my bag and raise up, slipping back through the sheets.

My biggest pride is how silently I can move, but there's someone in this family that can do so better than me. My pa's snores from behind the third sheet mask her movements, at least that's what I tell myself, but the sudden rustle of sheets draws my attention to Rue's big, golden eyes. I can see her sweet smile in the blue light streaming in through one of the windows- the sun is preparing to rise.

"Good morning, Katniss." I smile and rustle a handful of her thick curls, "Good morning yourself, little bird." She passes through the curtains, no longer a disembodied head, and walks past me to the door. I'm sure she's out to get some firewood. I stay where I'm standing for a moment, enjoying what will likely be the last bit of coolness I'll feel for the day. The sun doesn't wait long to bring sweltering heat upon us, and starting the stove for breakfast will shorten that time considerably. In no time, Rue is starting the fire in the stove and begins cooking some grain into a mush for breakfast.

"I have a surprise, little bird." Rue turns her head to me in curiosity, leaving the gruel to cook a bit on it's own. I know she's interested from her body language, she's resting her weight on the balls of her feet, as if standing on her toes will allow her to see quicker. I grin and open my satchel, first pulling out a fist sized bundle of cloth. "I got some berries for all of us to eat with breakfast," I say as I untie the knot on top and reveal the small fruits. She sends me a sweet smile.

I pull a few handfuls of root vegetables out of my bag before getting out a second, bigger bundle. I let the wet noise it makes landing on the table speak for itself. Rue turns her whole body now, absentmindedly stirring the quickly thickening gruel. Her eyes look at the package and I can tell she doesn't know what it is once she flickers her eyes to mine. I hold up my left hand and wiggle my fingers at her in the growing light. Her eyes lock on small cuts on one of my fingers, and I know she's made the connection.

"Is that a catfish?" She sounds a bit alarmed. I nod at her, "I went noodling. I just wanted to make sure we have something special to eat tonight." That might have been the wrong thing to say, as she draws her shoulders in and turns back to stove. Her voice speaks up softly, "Going noodling must have been dangerous, Katniss. Is that why you stayed out so long this time? How did you keep from being caught?" I'm sure she's only asking questions to keep her mind from what's in store today. I pick up the bundled catfish from the table and give it a wipe with the sleeve of my thin cotton jacket.

I put the entire bundle into the big cast iron pot next to the stove, ma will deal with it later. I wrap my arms around Rue's little shoulders and push my face into her hair, "I know you're scared, Rue... so am I. It'll be okay. I know our names are in there more than we'd like them to be, but District 11 is so big. There are lots of us with names in, and there are lots of families as big or even bigger than ours, and I'm sure they're all taking tesserae as well." I'm not very good at comforting. Her shoulders are shaking a bit, so I give her one last squeeze before going to grab the younger siblings.

I look at all of them sleeping and suddenly the fact that I've been awake and moving too long catches up with me. I want to cry. I love every last one of my little sisters, but I sometimes hate my parents for bringing so many of us into this world when it's hard enough feeding two people in our district. I'm sixteen years old this reaping, and I've taken tesserae for everyone in this family, all nine of us, since my first reaping when I was twelve. My names in the pot have accumulated over the years and there are fifty little slips of paper with Katniss Fields on them this year. This will be Rue's first reaping, and there are ten slips of paper saying her name. I fought with her over this, but she's just as willing to sacrifice for our family as I am. This year we'll be eating better, but I'm not ready to have to worry about my little ones.

Only two more years (and seventy slips of paper) until I've had my run with the reaping. Rue's only twelve, she's got seven years of it ahead of her. Barley is eleven, he'll be there with us next year. Heather is nine now, so she doesn't have much time before she has to go to reapings, Anise is eight, Ivy is five, and little Laurel is only three. Luck willing, I will not be able to rest easy until I'm thirty-one years old and Laurel is eighteen. I'm overcome with premature grief for a moment, but steady myself with a deep breath. Looking at Laurel sucking on his thumb in his sleep reaches through the darkness in my heart and brings a small smile to my face. I go in order from the bigger bed to the smaller one and kiss every one of them on their foreheads to wake them up. No one will be working today, but with so many of us in the house we'll have to start preparing ourselves early.

After breakfast, ma begins to fix the catfish to prepare a stew for dinner. Pa has laid himself down in bed again, his bad leg acting up. It's relief that he has today to rest it, rather than working in the fields. If only it were a happier occasion. With Rue and Barley's help I fill up the iron tub in the drafty back room rather quickly, and I take command to bathe the youngest ones first. Ivy and Laurel play in the water while I scrub them both down, and I sigh in the relief that little bodies don't take so long to clean. Ivy goes to dress herself in one of my old blue dresses, and I wrestle Laurel into a little pair of slacks and white button down shirt. Rue begins to fix Ivy's hair while I lay out dresses for Anise and Heather who are bathing now. All of our clothing is old, but at least the worn material is easy to smooth with just hands. Barley bathes, then Rue, and by the time it's my turn the midday sun is already high in the sky and cooking the air inside the house.

I scrub myself clean, getting rid of the mud on my legs and arms from noodling earlier. I had tried to clean myself off in the water, but was more anxious to leave the pond and get myself home. It's safer to use a line on smaller fish than to go for catfish, what with the violent splashing, but the catfish pond is so far away from the meadow where the Peacekeepers usually patrol that I took the risk on a whim. I'm proud of my catch, but my pride is smaller than my fear of a public beating.

I towel off my body slip through the house to our shared room where I find my mother has laid out one of her old, yellow dresses. She has an attachment to her old clothing, so I'm very touched by the sentiment. I slip it on and find that it fits me rather well. I have my ma's straight black hair, so different from the curls and thickness of my younger siblings and pa. Her skin is an olive color, but we are all darker like our pa. We all share ma's golden eyes, though. Rue and I have her slight build, while Barley, Heather, and Anise are a bit stockier like our pa is. Ivy and Laurel are too young and small for me to be able to tell what they'll look like. We're all thin, though. That's what we have in common. It's something most of us in District 11 share; malnutrition is no stranger to anyone here.

When I dress, I sit in the kitchen where my mother fixes my hair in two braids and pins them across the back of my head. I'm putting twists into Rue's hair, and everything suddenly feels calm all around the house. I can only appreciate the moment for a few minutes until the commotion picks up outside. I peer out and see the mass of folks growing- it's time to head to town. My steady hands hide how much everything shakes inside of me, and I help my parents hustle together all of us to walk to town. Ma looks tired as we walk, holding Laurel on her hip in silence. My whole family is silent, so different from how we typically are. Pa walks next to me, holding Ivy's hand, and when he catches my gaze he gives me a sad smile and grabs my hand. This is a hard day for me, but I forgot how hard it must be for my parents. I squeeze his hand and hold it the rest of the way into town. My parents take the young ones off to the side, and I grab Rue's hand to line up for the check in.

Rue's watched me so many years now that she knows what to do, so she focuses instead on the insect like cameramen around us, the crumbling Justice building, and the large screens ahead on the stage. She checks in before me and waits for me to follow through. She looks at me and I can see her shake with nerves. I pull her into one last hug and kiss her forehead. She squeezes me so tight, her fear seeps into my body for a moment. Breaking away from her now is hard, but I do so and take my place amongst the other sixteen year olds. There are groups of girls holding hands, giving each other moral support. I have no one to hold hands with, my whole life has been about my family, my sisters. The feeling of loneliness hits me for a moment, but I fix my face to an emotionless mask and look forward.

It tightens my chest every year to see how many scared children there are with me in front of this stage, but this year it offers a bit of relief. I know many of them come from big families like I do, so I know that there are numerous entries for most of us here. Rue's ten entries are nothing in such a sea of slips, at least I try to tell myself this. The fifty slips belonging to me are forgotten today. I see our mayor sitting on stage, his calm face hides the concern I'm sure he feels. His three boys are out here with me. Beside him sit the two living victors that District 11 have to offer. Seeder, a woman who looks rather similar to my mother, sits with a small frown on face. Beside her is Chaff. He looks to be half asleep, it's likely he's already been hitting the hooch today. The empty chair belongs to a Capitol man, Crispus Balbina, my district's escort. With a start I realize that he is at the microphone, which means my flighty thoughts made me miss the mayor's reading of the history of the Hunger Games.

"Welcome, my dear District 11! A happy Hunger Games to you, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" He articulates his words in the odd Capitol fashion. He draws out his 's' like a snake, the vivid green of his hair and makeup on his pale face only completing the image. He moves gracefully to the first sphere of names. His left hand loosely pulls through the numerous slips before delicately picking a slip. He walks slowly back to the microphone, doubtlessly confusing our collective held breaths for anticipation. I hear the muted sound of girls shifting beside me, some gazing over to the crowd of parents around us, some to what may be their brothers or friends or boyfriends on the other side of our fenced off area. My mind is blank, I can only register the heat, how damp the dress is across my back, under my arms. I feel a droplet of sweat make a path down the side of my face. I feel flushed. Crispus opens his lips and first I only see his mouth move silently. Suddenly my senses catch up with me and I can decode what he has just said. Who he has just called.

"Rue Fields."


	2. Chapter 2

For a moment, I'm transported back in time. I'm five again and I'm in a pond, not the catfish pond, a smaller one. It's dark and I can't see anything and I can't breathe and I'm afraid to try and thrash my way to the top. Pa only let me come to learn how to swim after I crossed my heart and swore I would be quiet and careful. If I thrashed, wouldn't the Peacekeepers hear me? Pa's big hand grabbed the back of my undershirt and he pulled me up. I was gasping and crying and hugging his arm, shaking like a leaf.

I feel the same way right now. I feel deaf and mute as I watch Rue break away from the receding group of twelve year olds. They react as if being chosen for reaping is contagious. I can see her shoulders shaking. I'm gasping and gasping, but it's like my lungs won't work. My ma cries out briefly but chokes it back, and that's all it takes. It's like pa has reached into this pond of disbelief I'm trapped in and pulled me out. _Rue!_

I'm convinced I'm only thinking of her name until I hear myself say it two more times, each louder than the last- "Rue! _Rue!_" Everyone gets quiet, and I see all these faces, olive and brown, staring at me. The corner of my eye sees that at least two of the screens behind the stage are filming me. Of course. This is exciting- District 11 hasn't had any volunteers since anyone can remember. None of these things weigh on me, though, except for Rue's head turning to look at me. This pose is so familiar, but the same scene from this morning is lifetimes away.

Our almost identical, golden-brown eyes meet. I know she's afraid, I am at any rate. But it's like she's trying to tell me something, trying to tell me to stay behind. _I'm sorry Rue, but I can't let any of my baby sisters go into the arena._ She understands this, I think, because her eyes fill with tears. I may not be able to help my brothers, but I can at least stand in for my sisters.

"I volunteer!" My voice rings out with surprising strength, considering what a mess I am right now. "I volunteer as tribute." I won't allow myself to hesitate anymore, and take long strides up to where Rue is standing. I squeeze her arm as I pass and turn my head just long enough to see some friends from her age group pull her back into the line-up. I'm not ready to search for the faces of the rest of my family.

"Well," Crispus stutters out in surprise, "that is most certainly a first. Young lady, come to the stage!" It's a struggle to look confident walking up there, with my sweat likely having soaked through the back of my dress in a noticeable way. But still, I take long and solid steps all the way to the front of the crowd of children so I can climb the steps. It's funny, I never realized just how many people live in District 11 until I've had to walk past all of their children to get to the front. Focusing on the screen that shows the crowd I realize that there are hundreds of faces I don't recognize amongst them; it's not just a few folks that have to walk in from way out of town, some of these kids probably had to walk for a few days to reach our Justice building. If they get called, there's no family to come visit them and say their goodbyes. Does the family get brought in if they're chosen?

As I climb the steps, I chastise myself for asking all of these questions. Right now I feel like I'm walking to what will certainly be my death- never mind the arena, the door to the building probably just leads to the gallows. I look at the white and green that is Crispus through eyes that I hope are emotionless. My hangman is a clown, sent by the Capitol.

"Young lady, what is your name? I'm willing to bet from the resemblance that you are her relation." His face is one of happy surprise. I'm sure the answer will absolutely thrill him. A new bead of sweat trails down my cheek and flows to the corner of my mouth. I lick my lips and swallow hard- _Don't show weakness now._

"Yes sir," I get out in a sort of stoic monotone, all politeness. I'm sure the folks at home in the Capitol are just eating my quaint District 11 manners right up. "My name is Katniss Fields. I'm her older sister." Crispus is laughing now, pleased as peaches that such a once-in-a-lifetime event is happening in the very district he escorts. I sort of hear him call to the crowd to applaud me. All of these faces are looking at me now, not with indifference as they usually would. It's expected that someone will be chosen, and that this someone will likely die. They look at me with what appears to be respect- I'm doing what every one of those older sisters or older brothers or mothers or fathers wish they could do. I'm risking my life, to save one that is important to me.

The threat of Peacekeepers all around elicit a hesitant, soulless applause from the crowd. It's brief and halting. I see Rue in the crowd of girls, staring up at me through tears. It tugs at my heart painfully, so to save face I try to find another face to focus on. The crowd of children is so large I can hardly make out the rest of my family, standing fenced off from my reaping peers. Ivy and Laurel don't know what's going on, but I can tell ma's pushing her face into my pa's shoulder. I know she's crying. Pa is just staring straight at me, I can't tell if he's trying to communicate anything to me. Barley is hugging Heather and Anise; I watch his hand raise to his face to wipe away the sweat from today's relentless sun. Or maybe tears?

The shock of today's events and my own actions numbs me to the rest of the proceedings until I feel Crispus put his hand on my shoulder and sort of lead me to face my right. I'm shaking hands with a stranger. Some quiet voice in my mind whispers his name to me, Thresh. I don't really remember hearing it be called. I'm a bit relieved looking at him. I don't know him from school, he's likely one of the out-of-towners that had to travel to come to the reaping. Whether he was from my town or not, I know already that I don't want to have to face him in the arena. I don't want to kill him, but I'm also glad that in any event I should, there are only nameless faces that would blame me. No one from town, no parents that mine know. My eyes lock briefly with his golden-brown eyes, so similar to my own, to Rue's, to all of my little ones.

A warm hand rests on my wet back suddenly, and I'm being lead inside by Seeder. Maybe it's false serenity because of how similar she looks to my ma, but I feel calm for the time being. She brings me to a room upstairs in the Justice building. The main hall of this old and decaying building is cool, likely from the smooth white stones used in the floor. The room I'm brought to, and left alone in, smells musty- a fact only amplified by the extreme heat the sun shining directly in causes. I think numbly about how I'm ruining my ma's dress.

After what feels like hours, I hear a click near the handle of the door and I realize it's been unlocked. It's like a tidal wave rolls in and I suddenly find myself overwhelmed by all of my younger siblings. There's so much hugging and crying and sweating and I don't know how much of it is them and how much is me. My ma can't stand back for long, and suddenly I feel her arms reach out and hug me, adding to this stifling heat being caused by this pile of little bodies on me. Her cries almost block out the guarding Peacekeeper's announcement of the three minutes we have. The last three minutes on earth that will matter to me.

I hear Rue's muffled voice come somewhere from the pile of kids on top of me, "You should have just let me go, Katniss. We need you back home, who else will bring in fish and tubers to take care of the family?" The last part is a whisper. Smart Rue, she knows the guards are likely keeping an ear to the door. I'm rubbing someone's back, in this tangle of limbs I'm not sure who is who through my blurry eyes, "I'm sorry Rue. I won't have any of my little birds taken away- I'm the eldest, I'm supposed to be the one protecting! You know where I keep my things, Rue, and you know you're as good as I am when it comes to finding food and line-fishing."

I can feel the time slip like sand through my fingers. After hugging every one tightly and kissing them all over their faces, I come to my pa. His face is set in a grim expression, and I see that he's got tears in his eyes. Without saying a word, he pulls his kerchief out of his shirt pocket and wipes my face clean gently. The cloth feels surprisingly cool and I feel a bit better with all of the sweat and tears out of my face. I feel him hug me close and I just melt into him a bit, letting him know how much I love him. We've never needed words, pa and I. He pulls back and kisses my forehead, his whiskers scratching me a bit, and when I'm looking into his face again he pulls something out of his pocket.

"Katniss, take this with you. Each district's tributes are allowed to bring a token with them, I'd like this to be yours." It's a carved wooden pendent, hanging from a braided straw necklace. It's a bird with it's wings spread, clearly in flight. My dad whistles Rue's melody, the one that gets the mockingjays singing and lets everyone one know that the day's work is done. It's a mockingjay pendant, which from the looks of it was carved by him. I hug him again and kiss him on the cheek before slipping it on over my head. Too soon the guards pop in and set about removing my family. Rue slips towards me and whispers twelve words to me.

"You have to try and win, Katniss. You have to come home." I'm sweating again and look deeply into her eyes as she's being led out of the door. Just before she's through the door, I nod. I sit alone in the room, listening to my family's stampede of footsteps fade down the hallway until they're gone. No one else visits me, but I don't expect anyone to. I've never been good at making friends. Rue's the brightest of us all, she would have likely had everyone is school from her age group crowding in to say goodbye. I suppose I'm more like my father- quiet and surly.

Rue reminds me so much of myself, in some ways. She's got the same adventurous streak I do, and in many things she has been my partner in crime. But she, and the younger ones, are all a little more carefree than I can be. I'm the oldest, and the only one who remembers when times were hard. Times are always hard, but they once were even harder. The harvesting accident that gave pa his bad leg put him out of work for a long time. We barely had enough money to have a healer come in to look at him, but afterward we were even worse up. I was only ten at the time; Rue was close to turning six and Barley had just turned five, and neither understood much past that pa was sick. Heather and Anise were only three and two respectively, so they don't even have a recollection of this time.

Ma put in so much work to take care of us. In those days, the Peacekeepers were actually a little less strict, and that's when I first found the courage to sneak out at night and going noodling for catfish. My pa had already gifted me his old knife, and I used to throw them at wild groosling I might come across at night. The first several times I typically only retrieved my knife, but with time I gained some strength and precision, and managed to bring one or two home every so often. We're always hungry in District 11, even my siblings know that, but they don't know the utter fear of starvation like I did when I had to buckle up and help to take care of them.

I think to my youngest siblings- will they remember me if I die? I shake my head at my optimism._ When_ I die. I'm suddenly angry that my parents didn't learn from our family's dark days, that they went on to bring another two children into this evil world. I'm never getting married. Never having children. I didn't want to before, and now I definitely won't.

The door opens again, and it's Seeder stepping into my room. Her eyes flicker to my pendant and she offers me a small smile. "Hello Katniss. It's time to drive to the train." I get up and walk beside her through the building and get in and sit beside her in the car that will transport us. I watch Thresh and Chaff go into the car in front of ours. The cars start down the road with some backfiring to break up the silence. I haven't shed a tear since my pa wiped my face, and I'm proud of my mask. I feel like the sweat is running rivers down my face and arms, and begin to feel grimy.

In no time at all we're at the station, standing frozen like statues and having our pictures taken on the platform. Crispus pardons all of us for the cameras, and we file into the train like ants avoiding the chalk lines ma puts at every door and window. Seeder and Chaff enter what I'm told is the meal car, while Thresh and I are lead to our rooms by our escort. I pause once I'm alone in my room. The air in this train is so cool against my skin and I'm suddenly transported thousands of years into the past, reliving the pale blue light and Rue's quiet company from this morning. I can't take ma's dress anymore, soiled with my sweat- with the sweat of every member of my family after that warm dog pile at the Justice building.

I drop and step out of the dress happily, leaving it on the floor. My undergarments join it and I can almost hear ma lecturing me. I take care of pa's necklace a bit better, flinging it onto the soft looking blanket covering my bed. With minimal searching I find the washroom and take my very first shower. It's reminds me of dancing in the warm summer rain, but there's no mud sticking to my feet or little brothers and sisters tugging me around. The water feels good, though, and I feel tremendously better, cleaner once I'm out. Stepping back into the room, I decide to let the air dry me while I take my hair out of the pinned up double braid and put it back into a single, simple one that falls over my shoulder.

I notice with a start that ma's dress and my underclothes are gone. A sidelong glance to the bed reassures me that pa's necklace hasn't moved an inch, but suddenly I feel so guilty for just dismissively throwing that pretty yellow dress down. Paranoid to lose it, I slip the necklace back on. I see that some drawers have been opened on the dresser and I slowly put two and two together and realize that Capitol servants have likely taken them to clean and were just letting me know where to find fresh clothes. I slip into some soft clothing, a light blue tunic and soft pants. I feel the luxury of this clothing against my skin and suddenly decide that the Capitol servants are probably actually burning my soiled dress instead.

Walking into the meal car I see that Thresh isn't to be found there, likely in his room. Chaff has fallen asleep on one of the couches, and Seeder sits at the table. I suppose she's eaten, but the food on her plate looks hardly picked at. I sit diagonally from her, unsure how close I want to be to someone so involved with these horrible games. I know in my heart that she was an unwilling participant as a child, and likely is still now, but I don't want to sit across from her and watch her give me sad smiles all night. Crispus is there too, sitting near Chaff and going on and on about the games. How exciting they should be this year, and that this years lineup seems so interesting.

I see on the screen behind him that the recap of the reaping is playing. It's likely on a loop, and I'll have to watch it all with both Thresh and Crispus. They're showing District 11 right now, and to my surprise they play it in full. I see my distraught face, I hear my voice call out- it sounds weaker now that I'm watching this in retrospect. I think my voice even cracks. It all feels so long ago. I'm absently eating a flower shaped roll, just something to fill my stomach, when they play District 12's reaping. I have to stop eating before I choke.

They show a little twelve year old walk onto the stage. No one calls out to offer themselves in her place, and she stands up there and looks scared to death. And in her frightened face and shaky body, I suddenly don't see her anymore. Her two blonde braids, her pale skin, and her watering blue eyes morph in my mind and suddenly it's not the girl from District 12 up there, it's Rue. It's Rue and I'm not there to take her place. Her male equivalent walks on stage, and I'm a bit struck at how they favor each other- the blonde hair and blue eyes I suppose. They shake hands and their faces don't express much more than mild recognition- they're not siblings at any rate. He shares a quality with her, though, that gives me hope that maybe she will find an ally in him in the arena. They are both so remarkably... wholesome and good.

My eyes linger on the girl, Primrose? I believe that's the name they announced. I look at her, and want to mourn her already. Crispus says something about how it seems so long since there was last such a young child reaped, and how if I hadn't interfered we would have had two in one. He makes it sound so exciting, and it's really clear that this is a game and we're all players in his mind. I'm so angry, but I don't want to make a scene. I'm suddenly reminded of a sad song my ma used to sing on rainy nights, out on the porch when she thought I couldn't hear. So I sing out:

"_My friends, have you heard, how a long time ago,_

_Two little children whose names I don't know, _

_Were stolen away on a bright summer's day, _

_And left in the woods, I've heard people say._

"_Poor babes in the woods, _

_Poor babes in the woods, _

_Oh don't you remember _

_Poor babes in the woods._

"_And when it was night, so sad was their plight, _

_The sun went down, and the moon gave no light, _

_They sobbed and they sighed, and they bitterly cried, _

_Then the poor little things, they laid down and died."_

I know I sing well, it's a family talent; I'm looking out the window into the darkening night but I can see from the corners of my eyes that Crispus is hanging on my every note. As I begin the chorus again, Seeder surprises me by joining in, her voice, low, harmonizing with mine in a pleasant way.

"_Poor babes in the woods, _

_Poor babes in the woods, _

_Oh don't you remember _

_Poor babes in the woods._

_And when they were dead, the robins so red, _

_Brought strawberry leaves and over them spread,_

_And all the night long, the branches among, _

_They mourned as they whistled, and this was their song."_

Our voices fade out and I can see that Crispus is unsure what to make of this sudden outburst. I look to Seeder and her smile is still sad, but I can tell from the look in her eye that she thinks I did the right thing. I only wanted to sing to make myself feel better, but by my choice of song I also wanted to send him a message. I bite angrily into my flower shaped roll hearing what Crispus chooses to say as a response.

"Well if by some miracle you can manage to win, we know what your talent as a victor can be."

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Well, I got more views than I thought I would! Thank you, **IwriteStuffWithWordsInIt**for my first comment. :)

Just a bit of info on what I'm writing: The map I'm using for Panem is by aimmyarrowshigh and badguys- if you Google both names, you should be able to find the LiveJournal entry with the image as well as a pretty explanation of why exactly they made it look these ways.

Following this map, District 11 would still be in Georgia, as Suzanne Collins has stated, but also extend out towards and past the Ozarks. For the sake of building up a bit of a 'cultural' background for this District11!Katniss, I chose the general area of the Ozarks as her home- this allows me to cheekily borrow local folklore and songs, as needed.  
The song Katniss and Seeder sing is a real song, originally composed in England, is also considered a traditional folk song of the Ozarks (lots can be read up about this online!)

Katniss isn't Katniss if she doesn't have something extraordinary going for her. We know Dist. 11 has strict Peacekeepers, so she wouldn't be sneaking out to the woods- instead she covertly does things within the confines of the district itself. You'll see this reflected throughout the story!

Just as a general caution (I guess?) for later chapters, please continue to keep in mind that this will be Alternate Universe fiction. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

It's late morning, and I'm in the meal car picking at my food. My irritation with Crispus' response, or rather the lack there of, to my song yesterday is still sitting heavily with me. Out of pride, I'm doing my best to ignore the Capitol delicacies, and instead drink plain milk and nibble at my district's distinctly crescent shaped rolls. It seems so wasteful not to attack the entire table and secure its contents in my stomach, but my will wins this battle. Thresh sits diagonally from me at the table, clearly not repulsed by the never-ending, lavish foods based on how high he has piled the colorful foods on his plate. I'm honestly surprised at the restraint he shows while eating it- we're both from the same starving district, but he takes his time with his food. Any other kids from home would be eating themselves sick, and fast.

Seeder is across from me, constructing a hearty sandwich with the cuts of meat and rolls of bread the table presents. Chaff is likely sleeping off his hangover; my only memory of him as a mentor for any of the past games is that he was rolling drunk, though not as much as the only victor and mentor of District 12. Crispus enters the car with a flourish and twists his plump lips into a wide grin. I can't help but think that they're not real, at least not really his. He babbles about our schedule and the only thing that I really catch is that we'll be arriving in a few hours.

I take this time to pull Seeder aside and talk with her one on one a bit. I'm more comforted by her appearance than I think I would be; it feels like I have one of my ma's relations with me, and though I'm still hesitant, I feel like I can be open with her. Soon I realize that we've walked to my room and are just standing in its center wordlessly. I swallow the lump of nerves that gathered in my throat and lock my eyes onto hers.

"I have to win. I have to come home." Her eyes soften, and I'm a bit irritated at the hint of pity they display. No, what am I talking about- Seeder has been through everything I am preparing to go through. Not pity, sympathy. I swallow again. My next request goes so against who I am, who I've been these last few years. "Please help me."

Seeder surprises me when she steps forward and grasps my hands. She ducks her body a bit to get down to my height, another reminder of just how small, malnourished I am. "I will help you, Katniss. I will do the best I can, I promise." She doesn't promise me that she will win, and for that I'm grateful. She promises to help. She won the games before. I know I can't blame the lack of District 11 victors on her mentoring, but the fact there have been few does give me pause. Relying simply on her will not do, but I also haven't planned on it. I squeeze her hands and she gets my meaning, my thanks.

The train suddenly darkens and I find myself stumbling after Seeder back into the meal car. Shafts of light start streaking past the windows until we get a clear view of the Capitol closing in, all candy colored buildings and glass and metal. It's like another world. Seeder puts her hand on my shoulder so I turn my head to her.

"You don't strike me as the type who will like this too much, but I need you to wave and smile at the folks we'll be pulling in past." She's right, I don't like it. Thresh remains impassive and I'm struck with an almost childish jealousy. Thresh is who I want to be right now- intimidating, unmoving, stoic. Strong. Next to him, I'm so small, so slight, that it would be a complete joke to try and imitate his body language or pose. I pass by the start of the crowd cheering into our window with an emotionless expression before I finally give in to Seeder's suggestion. I try to smile, but find I can't do much more than a stiff grin, and hold my arm up, palm outward. I can't bring myself to wave, but at least my body language is more open, probably more like what she wants me to do. I steal a look at Thresh from the corner of my eyes. Yep, still jealous.

We're pulling in to the train station quicker than I'd like, and just like that we're sucked into the fast paced life of a tribute in the Capitol. It's not until I'm laying unmoving on a table, getting slathered in pungent ointments and having the fine hairs all over my body removed that I bother to start paying attention. I'm overcome with the urge to curse at them and push them away, but I keep myself calm by repeating Seeder's order in my mind. _Go along with everything they say; making it easy on them makes it much easier for you._

Soon, though not soon enough, they're done grinding away at and powdering me and I'm lead to and left in another room, shiny and naked like a little baby except for what they smeared onto my face. A man walks through the door, looking as flamboyant as every other person I've seen so far in the Capitol. He sort of paces around me and I'm suddenly nervous what kind of a costume I'm to wear at tonight's tribute parade. Typically District 11 dresses in what appears to be idealized harvesting gear- long overalls for the boys, overalls with skirts for the girls.

One year, the stylists decided to amp up the sex appeal of the tributes, by having them sparsely covered in leaves with gaudy miniature fruit hanging from... certain areas. At least our tributes weren't fully exposed, not like the year that District 12 were naked except for black powder, coal dust I suppose, covering their bodies. I almost feel as if he is paying too much attention to my nudity and am struck with the fear that I will be stuck on a chariot wearing only a basket full of apples on my back.

To my great relief he finally produces the tried and true District 11 garb- overalls with a flared skirt, too short for my liking, and a white and blue gingham blouse. He helps me dress and at first means to leave too much of my blouse open. I suppose I can count myself lucky that never eating enough, in combination with my mother's slight build, didn't leave me particularly blessed in terms of my bust. The opened buttons merely leave me looking like a child playing dress-up, so I am happy that he buttons it up to my collarbone. He crowns me with a leafy wreath decorated with apples and oranges before showing me myself in the mirror.

I sort of look like a character out of a children's book. The blouse is far too starched to be comfortable to move my arms in, and I would never be able to climb trees and pick fruits with this ridiculous skirt on. Not without losing most of my dignity, at least. I think the makeup I don't remember the stylist's team putting on me looks garish- pale pink lips, light powder around my eyes to brighten them, and so much blush on my cheeks. I figure they want me to look like a young, rosy, healthy worker. Instead I look like a clown. The wreath, at least, is lovely to look at, though the juicy looking fruit are making me very hungry.

As if on cue, my stomach growls and my stylist leads me to a couch in front of a table. He pushes buttons and it is suddenly laden with a wide variety of food, most of it foreign to my eyes. I choose a stew, lamb and plum, and content myself with only that and some bread. The stew is rich and delicious, and I know right away that I will over indulge. I'm careful to take my time and force some grace into my actions, what with the looks I'm getting every time the spoon comes to my mouth. Before I take my next spoonful, I spread my napkin across my chest and lap in an effort to appease him. It works.

Dinner is over far to soon, and I journey with my stylist, Vitus as my prep team called him, to the stables to get ready for the chariot ride that's meant to show the tributes off. Thresh is there before me, wearing long overalls and no shirt. One look at his stylist answers any question I might have about his shirtlessness- her eyes are greedily taking in every inch of uncovered male flesh in the stables.

I walk to our horses, both a rich brown color, and run my hands along their snouts. Anything to calm me down right now. I look around at the other tributes around me. District 1 looks dazzling, as can be expected from a district that creates luxury items. The two tributes from District 2 look like warriors, which only drives the point that the careers from the higher districts are so much taller than me, better fed. District 8 makes textiles, their tributes are covered in layer after layer of cloth.

Vitus comes over and escorts me back to the chariot's opening by my elbow, "You're a sour girl, Katniss Fields. You have a face that looks like it's never experienced a smile." I scowl at him, but don't shake him off as he assists me into my vehicle. "I'm not saying this to make you angry. Just... a piece of advice for you- those people out there could be potential sponsors. Try to smile and wave, I know you have it in you." With that he's suddenly gone from my side and Thresh steps up next to me. I glance at him from the corner of my eyes. In another world we could be brother and sister. The chariot lurches forward, and I look straight ahead, hands gripping the chariot tightly to keep me from falling off.

Unsurprisingly, we barely garner any attention. Though I smile stiffly and wave occasionally, I know that any attention our chariot draws is directed towards my fellow tribute. He's what a tribute, what a victor should be- tall and strong. He didn't receive advice to look friendly or likeable. I feel a familiar strain in my chest. Jealously. Looking to the sides I see the sudden light from behind us. I know it's bad form to turn my head, so I look instead to the screens along either side of the road. District 12 is on fire. Earlier I had barely paid them any attention- they were dressed all in black, the only notable object of clothing being their flame colored capes. But now it was clear what they were meant to represent- the surprisingly often forgotten use for coal. Fire.

I don't know how I manage to keep smiling and waving, but half way to our destination I give up the pursuit. Primrose. Peeta. The District 12 tributes' names are on everyone's lips. If I was in the crowd, I imagine I would be chanting their names as well. Instead, I stand in my chariot, hands stiff and tense in front of me, staring at each passing screen to see more of the two. Their blonde hair seems alight with the orange glow of their costumes, their blue eyes appear to be the hottest part of the flames, red and yellow, that lick at their shining faces. I register that we are stopped, below the balcony of President Snow. He addresses us and I feel myself frown. He's a small man, slim, with white hair and unnaturally puffy lips. I drown out his voice and focus instead on the sound of my breathing, the sound of the horses snorting.

We return from the stables, and I turn my eyes to Primrose and Peeta again, watching their flames get extinguished by their stylists. A quick look around shows that they've caught everyone's attention. A knot forms in my throat and I realize that they're becoming marked as targets as we speak. Seeing her in person, Primrose still has some quality that reminds me of Rue. She looks fearful but strong willed; she doesn't have Rue's musculature. But then again, I don't know if they have many trees to climb in District 12, never mind the fact that their job isn't to climb trees.

Thresh and I join Vitus, Seeder, Chaff, and the female stylist in the elevator and go up to our quarters. We watch the recap of the parade, and the focus falls again on District 12. Their stylists are geniuses. Even now, watching this a second time, I'm in awe at how otherworldly they look. Soon the events of the day take their toll on me, and I follow Seeder down the hall where she shows me my room. She stops me from entering by placing her hand on my shoulder.

"You did good, Katniss. Tomorrow will start your training, I want to talk to you before we all meet for breakfast. I'll wake you." Our eyes meet, and for a brief moment she is transformed into my ma through my tired eyes. My hand drifts up on its own and my fingertips briefly touch her forearm. She squeezes my shoulder, that sad look in her eye again, and walks off. Sleep comes with great difficulty, but without knowing it I do eventually drift off. I wake up to Seeder entering my room and quickly sit up in bed. She gives me a soft smile and walks over to sit next to me.

"You will be training with the other tributes in the training center for three days, including today. Now would be a good time to tell me any skills you might possess." Her golden eyes are fierce, and I can't help but think that something has changed in her since yesterday. Chaff has been an alcoholic as long as I can remember, and it finally strikes me that Seeder is probably the stronger, if not healthiest, of the less popular districts' victors. I think of my skill with throwing knives, noodling, line fishing... but none of it seems of any use, really. Never mind the fact that they are all illegal activities. I consider Seeder again. She's not too much taller than me, and I imagine she's only as strong and healthy as she is because she's a victor, because she lives with luxuries such as having enough food to eat now. She's like me, she knows what it's like to be hungry. My mind is set.

"Um, I'm pretty good at noodling and alright at fishing with a line. I work in the orchards with my siblings, so I'm good at climbing trees. I'm small enough that I can jump from one to the other. I'm... alright at throwing knives, I guess. Good enough to hunt with, on the occasion that I felt safe enough to." She considers me, absentmindedly stroking her chin with her hand.

"Anything else?" she asks, "Anything that's defensive?" I ponder a bit at the question- I've never divided my skills into offensive and defensive.

"Well, I know some basic healing, I can recognize plants alright. I... I sneak out at night to get some extra food for my family."

Seeder nods at me contemplatively, "I don't question that you do, there's what? Eight of you?" She flattens her skirt over her knees. "The quality that victors from the lower districts have in common is resourcefulness, for the most part. While you're in training, focus on survival. The stations I absolutely want you to go to are edible plants and insects, fire making, fishing, knots, and shelters. This will give you a good idea of what to expect in the arena.

"Don't show off what you know. I want to tell you to stay away from the knife station, but you don't seem entirely confident in your skills. Go only when the Careers are busy or distracted with other weapons. Go to the slingshot station too, it would come in handy to know how to at least make a small weapon."

I nod quietly. It seems like a small victory, getting Seeder to give me tips so readily. She never gave off the feeling of being uncaring, but I think that maybe she sees me and considers that she is not sending off another child to their death. Maybe this one has a chance. She gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and steps out of my room again. I fumble for a few minutes in the overly complicated Capitol shower and finally find a simple setting. I try not to waste time and dry myself off before stepping back into the room, looking at the training clothing my stylist has no doubt had sent to me.

I put on my undergarments before slipping into the stretchy black pants and pulling the loose yellow tunic over my head. As I move to slip on the shoes I notice with satisfaction that my clothing allows me a lot of flexibility. I peer at my reflection in the mirror and frown. I have flexibility, yes, but at the expense of looking like a bee. I pull my hair into a braid as I exit my room and walk to the food laden table in the center of our quarters. I chug down water and eat two rolls of bread before even bothering to focus on any other food. I grab some sausages and give in to the temptation to try coffee. My dad loves to drink it, but it's been harder to be able to afford getting any for a long time. He drinks his black, so I try the same.

It's disgusting. Seeder sits close to me and I hear her gently laugh at the expression my face forced itself into. She reaches over to me and I see her drop sugar cubes and pour some milk into my cup. Unsure that this would have any positive effect, I stir the concoction with a small spoon before trying it again. It's better than okay, it's actually good. I don't think it's as good as my ma's home made fruit tea, but it's definitely better for preparing me for the day.

By the time Crispus has piled Thresh and I into the elevator that lowers us to the Training Center, I feel what can only be described as an electrical buzz coursing through my body. I'm very awake and very alert. Crispus doesn't exit the elevator with us, Thresh and I simply make our way forward to the growing crowd of tributes. The tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 have already crowded together and are surveying the rest of us like vultures. Thresh and I are here somewhat early, but they seem to already have dismissed me as a threat and instead focus on his impressive build.

Instead of worrying myself with the already formed Career pack, I pay intention instead to the rest of the tributes trickling in. The girl from 5 catches my attention; she's got bright red hair and a sly, fox-like face. The boy from 10, he's got a club foot and I can't help but frown. The Hunger Games know no mercy. Both from 12 come last, both dressed in matching green tunics. Their stylists are really playing up this whole twin angle.

Our pool of tributes now complete, I turn my attention back to who must be the lead trainer. I zone out while she speaks to us, instead finding my attention drawn to the weapons stations. The knives gleam in the harsh, florescent lighting of the center, but what draws my attention are the bows and arrows at the archery station. Pa used to have a box and arrows when he was younger, which he made himself. He was discovered and it was destroyed; pa got away with just some lashings, a light punishment compared to the death that would surely come of it today. He taught me stances, but I never had a chance myself to try it out. Maybe there would be a chance now.

With a start I realize that the tributes are all spreading away from the center, ready to try out the different stations. Thresh has beat one of the Careers, a boy from 2 I think, to the sword station and is listening intently to what the trainer has to say. I see the girl from 1 has attached herself to the archery station, and reluctantly make my way over to edible plants and insects. With a relief I notice that a lot of the plants the trainer shows me are familiar. I listen intently and take mental notes, and when she gives me a test with the bushes they have set up at the station I pass with flying colors. Edible insects is nearby, so I take the few steps to the next trainer.

This station is very new for me, but I am grateful to learn that I will still be able to get protein somehow in the arena, should I not find a weapon to hunt with. It takes longer to process and store all of the information he gives me, but sure enough I am able to pass his small test as well. The other stations that Seeder suggested as all taken, and I see that the girl from 2 is very focused on knives. Very skilled with them, too.

I frown and look around before deciding to go to the camouflage station. At this station, we use a variety of nature provided objects. As I walk over, I see the boy from 12, Peeta, walking over to the cleaning station. His arm and hand look exactly like a trees bark, and I'm incredibly impressed. Turns out he likely came to the station with skill, because none of my attempts come close to his. I have the advantage that my brown skin is more likely to blend in with the trees, but that is about where it ends.

Soon enough we break for lunch, and I take my tray of food to an isolated table. I see that Primrose and Peeta sit close to me, and I keep my ears perked at their conversation while I eat. The food is alright, but I'm mostly just happy to see the familiar District 11 bread here. As I take my first bite, I see Peeta pour out the basket of bread on their table and explain each rolls origin. I discretely sift through my own basket as he does so, curious to know which is which. The rest of lunch is uneventful, and worse is the training afterward.

I still find no opportunity to satisfy my curiosity at the archery station, and the girl from 2 has gone right back to monopolize the knife station. Instead I climb around on various machines for the next few hours. Years of working in trees and jumping around make this easy for me, more so because everything is meticulously arranged and placed. The afternoon spent in the training center is unremarkable, and I'm almost relieved to be released back to our quarters.

One day down, two more to go.

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Sorry that this took so long! I'm moving to a new apartment and starting classes, so it's been a bit hectic. I promise that the next one won't take so long!

Thank you for the comments, particularly to Anonymous- thank you for the corrections! I double read the chapters before I post them, but it's easy to gloss over mistakes if you make them. Anyone who notices them, please point them out!


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